


Inference

by allofuswithwings



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Implied Relationships, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-15
Updated: 2012-08-15
Packaged: 2017-11-12 05:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofuswithwings/pseuds/allofuswithwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The precise nature of John and Sherlock’s relationship has always been cause for speculation for the people around John.  Yet the last person he expects it from, is the detective’s own brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inference

**Author's Note:**

> Betas: xanium and lovedbynumbers on LJ.
> 
> Cross-posted on LJ.

~

 

John could no longer remember the precise reason for their visit to Mycroft.

 

Something veiled under the guise of familial obligations, so Sherlock’s command that John come along too made absolutely no sense to the doctor at the time.  Though after razored questioning by Sherlock, it soon became clear that it was nothing of the sort.  Mycroft had grudgingly dropped the pretence and followed on with brief descriptions from a case he wanted Sherlock to take a look at.  It only drew a dismissive wave from the detective and a handover to his ‘assistant’ in words that John suspected were slightly, though not surprisingly, insulting to both him and Mycroft.

 

So John was stuck with his flatmate’s brother, in another case of neither of them really wanting to be dealing with the other but forced to nonetheless, due to Sherlock’s pigheadedness and inflated ego.

 

Mycroft had stopped discussing the case some minutes ago, probably when he realised John was not really listening, and when Sherlock had appeared in view outside the window.

 

He was some distance away in the gardens of the estate, eying up the shrubbery currently being attended to by a groundskeeper.  Though John could not hear it, a conversation ensued between them that likely involved Sherlock telling the groundskeeper something he didn’t want to hear, perhaps about his work or his personal life.  The man’s gestures quickly became animated, and John wasn’t surprised when he threw down his pruning shears minutes later and shoved past Sherlock to return to the house.

 

During this exchange, John’s mouth had curled into a knowing smile, and when he glanced back he found Mycroft watching him.

 

His gaze was steady and piercing, not unlike that he experienced with Sherlock when John spoke about things the detective didn’t understand, like relationships and emotions.  John could feel that analysis now; the working of a sharp mind to piece together information to create a bigger picture.

 

Though, unlike Sherlock regarding sentiments and compassion, Mycroft seemed to have drawn a satisfying conclusion to his puzzle.  But John didn’t have the faintest idea what the puzzle, nor its conclusion, was.

 

He let his gaze wander back out the window to Sherlock, who was now examining the pruning shears with an eagerness only the consulting detective could muster.

 

“I don’t suppose it would do much use to tell him, would it?”

 

Mycroft’s voice made John turn his head, though he remained distracted by Sherlock’s antics.

 

“Hmm, what?  Tell who, what?” John replied absently.

 

Mycroft spoke again as though John hadn’t even asked a question.

 

“Despite his own thoughts, and possibly even _feelings_ , on the subject, I’m not sure he would even know what to _do_ with the information if you gave it to him.  I can assure you he’s not practised at any of that sort of interaction, though I’m sure you’re quite aware of that already.”

 

“I’m sorry, what are we talking about?  Who’s not practised at what?” John asked, his focus turning more fully to Mycroft now.

 

Mycroft’s smile was dry.

 

“I’m referring to my brother, and his substantial lack of social aptitude.  Especially when it comes to relationships of a… _personal_ nature.”

 

John’s brow furrowed, not quite following.

 

“Okay.  Right.  Sorry, what relationship are we talking about?”

 

The vacant smile didn’t move from Mycroft’s lips.

 

“The one with you, of course.”

 

John’s expression became wary.

 

“Well, not that it’s really any of your business, but our friendship is perfectly fine, despite Sherlock’s social shortcomings,” he informed him.  “What is it that I’m supposed to be telling him, or _not_ telling him, exactly?”

 

Mycroft put down the tea he’d been sipping.

 

“Your feelings for him, my dear John.”

 

Mycroft stated this was as though it were the most obvious concept in the world.  John felt his whole face flush with what he supposed to be indignation.

 

“What _feelings?_ ” he ground out.

 

He’d heard this enough from everyone else; he didn’t need it from Sherlock’s family too.

 

Mycroft’s eyes glittered.

 

“Oh dear, don’t tell me we’re going to need a discussion about the birds and the bees, are we?  I was assuming by your age, you’d know about those sorts of things,” he replied, tone patronising.

 

John frowned again and then brought his fingertips to his eyes, rubbing at them and the bridge of his nose.

 

“For god’s sake, how many times do I have to say this to people?” he sighed.  “I’m not…”

 

But Mycroft stopped him before he could argue the point.

 

“I know what you’ve said and what you say to others, John,” he interrupted, tone even.  “And if you want to continue to do that with them, that’s fine.  But I can see perfectly well with my own eyes.  You know I keep them closely trained on the two of you, for various reasons, so there’s no need to be coy.”

 

“I’m not being _coy_.  I don’t feel anything for Sherlock other than friendship.  And occasionally rage, when he’s acting particularly like a pillock.”

 

“Please.  The way you looked at him just now negates any claim you make about platonic feelings.”

 

John knew he shouldn’t encourage Mycroft’s speculation, but asked anyway.

 

“The way I looked at him?  How _exactly_ did I look at him?”

 

“Oh, I’m sure I don’t quite possess the eloquence that various poets and writers have done with this sort of thing over the ages.  Though I imagine some references to longing and adoration wouldn’t be too far off the mark.”

 

John felt his ears burn now, and he brought a fist up to his mouth, clearing his throat.

 

“I don’t know where you–” He stopped and tried again.  “I don’t _adore_ Sherlock in any way,” he said firmly.

 

Mycroft’s smile was wider now, with an uncharacteristic hint of amusement.

 

“You adore him in _every_ way.  I’m surprised my brother hasn’t pointed it out by now.  Then again, he can be _awfully_ naïve about some things, so he truly may not have noticed.”  He seemed to ponder this for a moment, his gaze tracking out the window to Sherlock, who was still busy investigating the garden.  “Or he _has_ noticed, and is simply keeping quiet to be polite and not embarrass you.  But I think we both know that’s unlikely; it’s not like Sherlock to be considerate.”

 

John wondered if there was much point disputing the assertions anymore, since Mycroft had clearly made up his mind, regardless of what the doctor said.

 

“Your brother is the best friend I’ve ever had.  Whatever else you want to read into it…”  He paused, quietly clearing his throat again.  “It’s all just gossip, and it doesn’t matter to me.  The only thing I care about is Sherlock’s wellbeing.  If my company makes him happy, then… then, that’s fine.”

 

At this, Mycroft’s expression turned thoughtful.

 

“Despite what I said, there may be some merit in telling him,” Mycroft mused.  “It would probably do him good to have some understanding of human bonding, like the rest of us.  I’m just not sure how successful you’d be if you were inclined to take it… _further_.”

 

John’s cheeks reddened and he suddenly felt hot in his cardigan.  He set his tea cup down on the table and stood up.

 

“Well, I think we’re done here.  You can email me any other information on the case if you need to.  I’ll get Sherlock and we’ll leave you in peace.”

 

Mycroft called to him as he was leaving, making him pause.

 

“John.  My brother may appear educated in most ways of the world, but not in everything, I can assure you.  I think you already know this.  Remember, be careful with him.  He is… _inexperienced_.”

 

Bewildered, John continued out the room, Mycroft’s words echoing in his head.  Precisely what he meant by all that, John could only hazard a guess. 

 

What he came up with made his mouth turn dry.

 

He shook the thoughts from his head, deciding they needed analysing another time, and marched from the house to collect Sherlock from the garden.

 

*


End file.
